


Selfish

by Eline (Sans_Souci)



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gap Filler, POV Female Character, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-01
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Souci/pseuds/Eline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end from a witch's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witch and Knight

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was strange how it was harder to avoid people in large spaces. The residences within the Britannian Government complex in Tokyo were sprawling and well planned despite their fortress-like exterior. Now home to the Emperor’s court while he consolidated his power, they served as a replacement for the palace in Pendragon.

Somehow or other, C.C. tended to gravitate towards the Emperor’s suites, whether she wanted to or not. Of all the places in the spacious compound, her wanderings always inevitably took her there. But she held back like a wary stray, unwilling to go past that threshold. It had been like that for the past week. 

A month ago, the world had been brought to its metaphorical knees and the Emperor had been very busy making sure that his reign would be memorable. Mothers would not even use his name to frighten children in the future. No, they would not mention him at all if they could help it.

As for those closest to him . . . they held true to the original plan. Whether in the bowels of the massive prison complex that housed all “revolutionary treasonous elements”, on the field seeing that the Emperor’s will was done or being dead, they held true. 

C.C. supposed that she was one of the closest observers. One of those who were not actually acting out a given part. Observers had to hold themselves distant and C.C. was a master at that. Just not now.

The three of them had shared extremely cramped quarters after their escape from Kaminejima. C.C. had used the gate to transport them to the site in Britannia--a situation she had not been entirely comfortable with but it had been that or risk being discovered by the search parties.

There had been too much at stake for them to risk capture. She had thrown her lot in with their scheme by bringing them through the gate. They had not actually asked her opinion--typical male behaviour--but she had always gone along with Lelouch's plans as his accomplice so they might be forgiven for assuming. It was not as though she had much to say about their plans anyway.

But they had marched on, lock-stepped in time to Lelouch’s tune. Side by side, sometimes skin to skin--so close that she sometimes could not help but brush the surface of their thoughts. Yet when their goal had been accomplished, time seemed to speed up and she found herself watching the end of an epoch--again.

C.C. had not cared about the affairs of the world for a very long time. The centuries rolled past and mankind acted very much the same way as they did back in the time of her birth no matter how many cycles they went through. But recently, it seemed that things had changed.

 _He_ was in the thick of it all.

His legions were still on the field, pacifying the last few countries that still showed signs of dissent. A very muted level of dissent, but the 99th Emperor was not one to do things by halves. 

No, he had to make a grand production of it all. C.C. might have had something to say about his tastes levels, but she usually sat wordlessly on the sidelines as the drama played out.

Already there were whispers that named her a witch--the other name that rhymed with _witch_ \--and one of the Emperor's inner circle. That was the price of being associated with power. C.C. had been called worse.

"It doesn't disturb you then?" Lelouch had asked her once.

She had shrugged. "Names don't mean anything. Words get forgotten."

The Emperor's whore. The witch and the late Knight of Zero were both the Emperor's confidantes and lovers. They had something to do with the evil power the Demon Emperor was rumoured to have. They practiced depraved rituals in private. Oh, she had seen this before--in many kingdoms, in many courts, across different cultures.

Right before a forest of spears and pitchforks came a-knocking at the door. C.C. had been involved--intentionally or not--in too many of those types of scenarios to count. First up against the wall, come the revolution.

But that had been the plan. His plan. It required atrocities amplified across nations. It required war on a scale that the world had never seen before. So that no-one would forget for a very long time afterwards.

The plan required all dissidents to be rounded up. Hundreds and thousands of rebels to be sentenced to death for treason. His own crippled sister branded as a traitor. Very convincing.

He did not visit Nunnally, alone but well-cared for and well-guarded in her own private room. His mask would not hold up for long in front of that girl.

Yes, he was one of the best actors she had ever known. A very good actor, but an inherently bad liar.

Such things mattered little when one could enter the minds of others. Connected by her Code and his _Geass_ , she knew where he was most of the time and when he used his power. If she did not take care, she sometimes felt the edges of his thoughts. In the recent weeks, she had withdrawn into herself, shielding herself from his mind specifically.

Wilful denial perhaps, but C.C. knew herself to be extremely selfish.

The power of the _Geass_ in itself was a curse--a curse that ultimately doomed its user. She had given the power to others before and had watched them fall. This one was going to fall in the most spectacular way possible. She who had seen so many succumb to the power was almost afraid of watching this ending even as she hovered at doorways like a spirit.

A dark figure emerged from the shadow of the threshold ahead of her like the ghost he was supposed to be. The Knight of Zero, buried in a grand mausoleum to commemorate his heroic death. He haunted the Emperor’s suite, for all intents and purposes invisible to the world. His cat followed behind him, a curiously tenacious member of his species.

She seldom spoke to Suzaku, but not because they did not get along. It was just that there was very little to say. They had nothing in common except for Lelouch, but that alone was more than enough to understand each other. They would protect the king. Follow his orders. See the plan through. There was nothing else.

If they had cared any less, they would not have done it. She and him, united in a common cause to kill her hopes and birth a legend. She knew that birth was a painful process. Never having experienced it first-hand, C.C. was surprised to find herself anticipating the pain of this transition.

She wondered if it would hurt more than the stake, this indirect death. When the sword pierced through his mortal flesh, she would be with him. Just like she had promised.

Perhaps she had been too maudlin. Or perhaps she had been skirting the issue for too long, for Suzaku paused beside her as he walked past. 

“You should go see him,” he said. The cat rubbed against her calves, demanding his tribute.

“Oh? Aren’t you afraid that the love of a good woman and a strong knight would weaken his resolve?” she asked lightly, reaching down to stroke the cat’s ears.

“That’s funny, because I don’t see any of those around,” he said, mirroring her tone. But his eyes were shadowed and opaque. The ever constant reminder of what he had to do was wearing him down.

“My, I almost thought you made a joke,” she said. “Touché . . .”

But she walked past him to the door he had just emerged from. Knocking was for other people.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	2. Witch and Emperor

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The room beyond was furnished as a study and library in solid dark oak. Good enough for royalty, yet not modern and hard-edged like some of those new designs.

“It’s been a while since you barged in,” Lelouch said. He was seated at his desk in his shirtsleeves. Probably brooding over his plans with most of the lights turned down for dramatic effect. A drama queen to the end.

“Your knight said I should come and use my womanly charms on you. It’s like tag-team wrestling, only--”

“He said no such thing.”

“Spoilsport,” C.C. said, flopping down on a comfortable armchair.

“Score one for me then.” Swiveling his chair around to face her fully, the 99th Emperor of Britannia and current conqueror of the known world looked no different from the schoolboy she had saved from almost certain death two years ago. Almost. He had no physical scars, this damaged boy with grand ideas and a demon’s grin.

“Have you finally run out of pizza requests to frustrate the kitchen staff with?” he asked.

“Hardly. I just dropped in to see how a teenager was managing the world.” That came out a bit sharper than she had intended.

He was quiet for a moment before he crossed the floor to where she was seated and dropped to one knee

“C.C., if this is about the contract, then I am sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know,” he said, taking her hands in his. A schoolboy no longer. Blood did out and the potential she had seen in Marianne had been distilled into something else.

“You’re not the first to be unable to complete the contract,” she said, hating the part of her that protested that this was not so, he had got the wrong idea as usual. Stupid male.

“You hid your Code from my father for the promise I made. You gave up a perfectly good opportunity to be rid of it.”

“Did I?” she asked lightly. “Perhaps it was because I didn’t agree with Charles’ plans.”

“Did you? Did you care about the world so much?” He mirrored her tone, but his eyes were fixed on hers. Not so stupid after all.

She almost laughed, but restrained herself just in time. It would spoil the mood, she thought as she stood up. The night was coming to an end.

“Of course not. I am a selfish woman,” she said, slipping off the suit and allowing it to crumple to the floor. 

“Oh? I hardly noticed.” But he was watching her warily as she disrobed.

“I’m a selfish woman and I’ll take what I want,” she said, standing before him in her skin. She had kept her boots on. Extending her hand imperiously, she willed herself to be the witch, seductress and queen--claiming what was hers by right.

There was a moment when uncertainty almost shattered her composure. Then he straightened up and placed his hand in hers.

“I’m in your hands, then.” Oh, the boy was a smooth one . . .

The witch took the prince by the hand. She led him to his bedchamber and took her time undressing him for she had learned once that the art of unveiling the body was an erotic act in itself. This was her present to herself and she would not rush it.

Not even for this prince whom she had known while he had been in his mother’s womb. He was not like Marianne, who had approached everything with boundless energy and a mischievous smile on her face. Even destroying time and negating change.

No, he was not like his mother, she thought as she kissed him. It took a moment before he opened himself to it. So guarded . . . but beyond his walls--beyond them was acceptance.

Flawed as he was, he had it within him--the ability to love and be loved in return. When vengeance was out of reach and futile, others might have fallen or lost their way. Not this one. He had the seeds of greatness in him, like the others she had known.

_Had._

She cursed--for the first time in decades--the plans of men and kings. What absurdity. No-one would remember _this_. This single foolhardy attempt to change the world.

C.C. welcomed his exploratory caresses, the lips at the hollow of her throat as he grew bolder. It was about time he had other things on his mind besides Zero Requiem--

Unsurprisingly, she was less accepting about it than he was. So little time left . . . She ought to bring Suzaku in. Next time. If there was a next time. Such thoughts were not--

And she really did swear then--an old, old obscenity not written down in any book, in a dialect that would not die so long as she lived. At herself for caring. At the inevitable ending to this story--

“What?” Lelouch asked, confused.

“Nothing . . .” She pressed him back and straddled his thighs. “It’s nothing.”

Reaching down between them, she stroked him until he groaned with desire. In this respect, he was a boy still. And she was really much, much older than him. _Cradle-robber_ was not an appealing moniker, but she was past caring as his hands skimmed the tips of her breasts, tracing her skin all the way to the curves of her hips.

She was ready, more than ready, as she eased herself down, the slickness between her legs making it easier for them both. The energy of youth more than made up for inexperience, right here and now. If she wanted a more skilful lover, C.C. had known her fair share--more than her fair share--of them.

He gasped out her name--her real name. 

Names still had some power, even now. It cleaved through her, parting through the layers--witch, queen, seductress--layers and layers of selfhood that she had formed over the years.

He summoned her--what she was and had been. He reminded her--that she still was and would always be. 

_Yes, this was eternity._

The pleasure peaked within her and she instinctively ground down harder, drawing out her own orgasm along with his.

_I have seen eternity._

This was only what they called _a little death_ she remembered while floating in the warm mental fog that followed such activities. Her mind did pick the strangest times to wander . . . Those things close to death were often beautiful. And he was so very beautiful in that moment.

“So, is this a point for you?” he asked, too tired to care that his face was inches from her bosom as they lay together under a muddle of coverlets and sheets.

“It’s all right,” C.C. said, idly running her fingers through his hair. “We will have plenty of time to keep score.”

_We will have eternity._

* * * * * * * * * * * *


	3. Witching Hour

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunrise. Another day in an endless parade of days.

Preparations were already underway for her escape. Jeremiah--loyal Jeremiah--had been tasked with seeing her safely out of Japan once the plan had come to fruition. 

Physical proximity strengthened the link between her Code and the user of the _Geass_ , that much she knew. So she remained within the Tokyo complex until this day.

It had not been a night she could sleep through. She had spent most of the time on a small roof-top terrace and was joined by Arthur for a while. The cat was non-demanding and pleasant company. His human . . . well, she trusted that they would find the time for farewells. It was a regrettable thing, not being able to say goodbye to those who were closest--this she knew.

When the sun rose, she made her way down. The hallways would be bustling soon as the Emperor made his first public appearance after the war. But for now a witch could move about unnoticed.

There were other ways for her to render herself almost invisible, but she chose not to as she moved through the long corridors like a wraith. Just outside the royal apartments, she met a ghost of another dead man walking the other way.

Draped in a flowing cape and clad in a familiar suit, the silhouette was unmistakably that of the fallen leader of the Black Knights.

Lelouch--no, this was not him. He shifted and the shadows slid aside to reveal his face. The shadows in those green eyes did not dissipate as he faced her.

He held that mask under his arm. And the sword. He bowed to her--almost apologetic, almost buckling under the strain of what lay ahead, but entirely resolved. It was all she could do to reach out and lay her hands on his head without trembling.

No--there would be no hesitation on his part. Her hands moved down to clasp the gloved hand that held the hilt of the sword. She could trust him to be quick and efficient about it. 

He laid his other hand over hers--an awkward gesture to be sure, but as good as a pledge. He would carry out his side of the bargain, as would she. It was oddly reassuring, to be able to know another’s intentions without needing to intrude upon their minds.

Without a word, without a backward look at her, he was gone and she was alone.

It would be soon. And like a child she sought comfort in the things of her youth. In the things that she thought she had ceased to believe in after so long.

He would not be alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When the time came, when that sharp blade thrust forward, it was as though the sword had taken them both in one stroke. Her body twisted in pain and she would have fallen if she had not already been on her knees. 

It was unlike anything C.C. had ever known, this dual death. So close to his mind--it was unbearable. And from his assassin, the echo of mental agony, reflecting and amplifying her own anguish a thousand-fold.

_Oh my Emperor, my king, my beloved, my friend, my dearest one--_

The shock of life parting from flesh--like being plunged into ice water one moment and burned the next. But she held fast, refusing the very human urge to flee.

The darkness--the darkness was coming. Swallowing them up, engulfing them in the void. She followed him down, sinking like a stone into the abyss. He could not be allowed to go too far . . .

She called him from the depths. Called for him with every fibre of her being. Weaving all of herself into a siren song to guide him to her.

_You promised--_

Before it was too late. Before consciousness dissipated into nothingness. This was not working . . . she had to allow her Code to draw her to him.

You said you’d make me smile--

Time was running out. She could sense him near, linked as they were by the power of the Geass that she had granted him. 

_Lelouch--_

And he was there, within reach at last.

The witch spun out her web, ensnaring the prince in a cocoon. The power of her Code gave her the wings to fly free of oblivion’s embrace. Lifting upwards with her precious burden, she soared out of the void, back into the blinding light of awareness where they would be safe--

Safe in her world forever.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A week later, a witch stood at a crossroads, Cheese-kun in tow. She pondered the road going south and the one heading north. 

Decisions, decisions . . . She had not got used to making them yet. The simple ones, at any rate. 

The first hay cart that came her way was going south. She went with chance and stuck out her thumb.

A smile from a pretty girl was payment enough and the fragrant hay at the back of the wagon was more comfortable than a feather bed. The sky was very blue and the future . . . well, the future was unknown. Thank goodness the power of her Code did not grant prescience.

She was smiling. Just like he had promised.

There had better be pizza, wherever she was going.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


End file.
